Gracey subsided and his smile returned. ‘One certainly can rely on the Major.’ As a tap came on the door, he added happily: ‘And here’s the man himself. Entrez, Entrez.’
Pinkrose entered.
‘Oh, it’s Lord Pinkrose.’ Gracey greeted him without enthusiasm.
Pinkrose did not notice how he was greeted. Trotting across the room, he nodded to Callard and Phipps, ignored the Pringles, and began at once: ‘I’m worried, Gracey; I’m extremely worried. We’re at war – but perhaps you know? You do? Well, I went up to the Legation to ask about my repatriation. I could have spoken to Frewen, but I thought it better to deal with the higher powers.’
‘Who did you see?’ Gracey asked.
‘Young Bird.’
‘Good God!’ Archie Callard sobbed his laughter into the pillow. ‘Is that your idea of higher power?’
‘What did they say?’ Gracey asked.
‘Not very much. Not very much. No, not very much. There may be a boat.’
Gracey seemed displeased that Pinkrose knew about the boat and said reprovingly: ‘If there’s a boat, it’ll be for women and children, not for men. You can’t force your way on. It would never do.’
‘Indeed?’ Pinkrose gave Gracey a look of startled annoyance while Gracey faced him indignantly. The two men eyed one another in a fury of self-concern.
The light had almost faded. In the spectral glimmer of late dusk, Gracey’s desiccated youth looked deathly while Pinkrose’s cheeks were as grey and withered as lizard skin. Seeing Pinkrose glaring like a wraith in the gloom of hell, Gracey pulled himself together and said with strained amiability:
‘Be a good fellow, Ben, and switch on the lights.’
As the light restored him, Gracey leant back and said: ‘I may have to go on the boat; but, given the choice, I would not dream of it. The Mediterranean is full of enemy shipping: submarines, U-boats, mines, and so on. It’s a perilous sea.’
‘Oh!’ said Pinkrose, faltering.
Archie Callard, who was sitting up in amusement, agreed. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it either. Any British ship is “fair game” on the Med., and there’ll be no convoy. The navy can’t spare a cruiser.’
‘Oh!’ said Pinkrose again and he looked about with fearful eyes.
He was about to speak when another tap came on the door and Gracey brought him to a stop by saying joyfully: ‘The Major, at last!’
They all watched as the door crept open and a hand, pushed through, waved at them. A head appeared. Smiling widely, Major Cookson inquired in a small, comic voice: ‘May I come in?’
‘Come in, come in; bless you,’ Gracey cried.
The Major was carrying several prettily wrapped parcels which he brought across and dropped on Gracey’s table. ‘A few goodies,’ he said, then stepped back to examine the invalid with an admiring affection. ‘How are we today?’
Querulous in a playful way, Gracey said: ‘Those tiresome Italians! Such a worry.’
‘Not for you. You’re not to worry. Leave that to your friends.’
Middle-aged, of middle height, with a neat unremarkable face and bleared blue eyes, the Major held himself tightly together, hands clasped at the bottom edge of a neat, dark, closely buttoned jacket. When he sat, he sat with a concise movement and, unclasping a hand which held a tightly rolled handkerchief, dabbed at his nostrils.
Archie Callard jumped up from the bed with a sudden show of energy and, coming to the table, began to sniff at the parcels and put his nose into bags.
‘Naughty!’ The Major gave him a surprisingly sharp slap and he jumped aside like a ballet dancer. Gracey giggled helplessly.
There was a sense of union between the three who seemed to be hinting at a game that was not played in public. Pinkrose watched perplexed but it was Ben Phipps who seemed to be the real outsider here.
Gracey wanted to have news of the party at which the Major had been detained. While he talked with Cookson and Callard, Phipps made several attempts to join in and each time was ignored. On edge at this treatment, he pushed himself to the fore, talking too much and too loudly, and the others looked at him in exasperation.
Discomforted by his behaviour, Harriet saw that the over-cultivated voice and over-large glasses were blazonry intended to disguise his own plainness of person. She suspected that he rode a rough sea of moneyless uncertainty and was a man who would always demand from life more than life was likely to give.
The Major began opening the parcels, saying: ‘I thought as I could not get here until supper time, it would be nice if we all took a little bite together.’
‘What a charming idea!’ Gracey said.
He had not troubled to introduce the Pringles to Cookson and they knew they were now required to take themselves off. As they got to their feet, Gracey sped them with a smile.
‘Do come again some time,’ he said.
The parcels were being opened before they left the room.
Down in the hall the supper bell rang. The Academy food might be indifferent, the lights cheerless, the rooms under-furnished, but Harriet longed to be sheltered here, one of a community, fed, companioned and protected.
The streets were unlit. The authorities had imposed a blackout. The Pringles clung together in the darkness of the unfamiliar district where pavements were uneven and areas unrailed. Guy, quite blind under these conditions, fell over some steps and groaned with pain.
Savagely, Harriet said: ‘Bloody Dubedat!’ and Guy had to laugh: ‘You can’t blame him for the black-out.’
‘No, but I blame him for a lot of other things. I’d like to know what he told Gracey about you.’
‘So would I; but what does it matter? Dubedat wanted to do something more than teach. He asked me if he could give an occasional lecture. I refused. I must have hurt his pride.’
Harriet, feeling for the first time that she had had enough of Guy’s forbearance, said: ‘Dubedat is nothing but a conceited nonentity. The pity is that you ever employed him at all. I hope you don’t intend to ask him for any favours.’
‘No. We’ll wait and see who gets Gracey’s job.’
‘Could the London office appoint Dubedat? Is it possible?’
‘Anything’s possible. All they know is what Gracey cares to tell them. He said there were several candidates. The choice will really be Gracey’s choice because they will choose the person he recommends. It’s as simple at that.’
‘He couldn’t recommend Dubedat.’
‘He could recommend worse … I suppose.’
‘I doubt it. But we’ll see. Meanwhile, what are we going to do about money?’
‘Don’t worry. The Organization won’t let us starve.’
‘You’ll speak to Gracey?’
‘No. I’ll cable the Cairo office.’
‘You might have done that days ago.’
‘If I had, we’d’ve been ordered to Cairo. Now we’re stranded here. They’ll have to let me have my salary.’
She was suddenly exhilarated. Their hopeless and moneyless condition had filled her with fear, but suddenly her fear was gone. She threw her arms round Guy, feeling that his human presence was a solution of all life’s difficulties, and said: ‘What would I do without you?’
Perhaps he was not as confident as he wished her to think, for he returned her embrace as though lost himself in the darkness of this city that had nothing to offer him. They stood for some minutes wrapped together, each thankful for the other, and then guided each other down through the main square to the hotel. There they went to supper in the basement, the only place where they could get a meal without making an immediate payment.